


The Guardian

by Pyracantha



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Rescuing a Demon, Wordcount: 100-500, shortfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:29:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25119925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyracantha/pseuds/Pyracantha
Summary: Another entry for the NTA Round 4 on the GOEvents Discord - Prompt - This Brings Back Memories
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25
Collections: Name That Author Round Four





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I always love a BAMF Aziraphale. Enjoy!

Aziraphale is reading when it happens. It’s a searing pain, making his hands clench, his stomach flip. It’s gone in an instant but in that instant he sees Crowley’s face contorted with fear. Real fear. A face he’s only seen a few times in six millenia. 

He’s on his feet and running before he’s even conscious of moving. He’s upstairs in the flat above the bookshop, eyes running over the tiny living room. To the sofa where Crowley loves to sprawl languidly in the evenings. To the wine glasses sitting on the table abandoned when he could no longer resist crawling into Crowley’s lap and kissing him breathless. Finally to the chest in the corner where his desired object can be found. 

He hisses as his shin barks into the table in his haste to reach the chest. He flings it open and grabs the sword he knew would be within. It springs to life, flaming a blinding blue white the instant it touches his hand.

_ This brings back memories _ he thinks. He allows himself a slight smile at the irony. His body all but sighs as it slides him into a ready stance. 

He closes his eyes to center himself and then opens his eyes, all of them, and  _ sees.  _

Crowley is giving him a moment, just enough of a moment, to appear and do what he was made to do. Guard the most precious thing in the world. 

And so he does. 


	2. What Came Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened BEFORE Aziraphale got that call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote this for the NTA - 4 prompt originally but it got away from me and way out of the 500 words or less. So here's what's happening when Aziraphale gets called!

Crowley slowly stands and stares. “This brings back memories” he mutters as he eyes the moldy wall facing him. It had appeared behind a door he didn’t have 5 minutes ago which he, in his overpowering curiosity had opened versus say getting the fuck out of his flat. What he sees is enough to clang every alarm bell in his corporation and some in several other planes of reality. 

He forces himself to breathe evenly as his internal monologue blasts  _ “fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck”  _ over and over in his head. He plasters on a smarmy smile. 

“Your grace!” he says, with a mocking bow. “And to what do I owe the honor?” 

He is sweating. All these limbic system reactions he doesn’t need but he can’t be bothered to suppress now. He shakes his head a little to clear it 

_ “What’s it called? Fight or flight?” _

He’s having to keep from doing either and it’s shorting out his ability to focus. Facing Lucifer and Dantalion is keeping all of his synapses busy at the moment. 

They have both chosen to present in their human-ish forms for this. Lucifer tall and dark haired, his eyes as deep as a well. Dantalion pale and drawn with a book, as ever, clasped tightly in his hands. 

At Crowley’s greeting Lucifer cocks an eyebrow and rolls his eyes. Dantalion just purses his lips harder, if that’s possible, and stares daggers at the demon. 

“Please Crowley, you know why we’re here.” Lucifer says, as bored as possible. “The book? We know you have it and we want it back. You may be persona non grata in Hell but I don’t give a shit.” 

He sounds like a bored hipster, annoyed but not letting it slip into his voice until right there at the end. Crowley can feel the power oozing out of him, as if the mortal body he’s chosen for this errand is not sufficient to contain him. It’s like smoke that’s slowly choking him. 

“I don’t read Lucifer.” he scoffs with an eye roll of his own to show he’s not cowed, no matter what his body is doing to throw him off. 

“You don’t need to read it to have it.” Lucifer snaps. “Give it to us before I show you what pain really means.” 

His voice hurts to hear. Like it’s on the wrong frequency for this plane of reality. 

“Can’t give you what I don’t have.” he replies with an attempt at a grin. 

Crowley is playing for time as well as with fire. Quite literally as Lucifer could burn him to ash as easily as breathing. Which for Crowley is becoming increasingly difficult. Oxygen deprivation doesn’t help with the whole, ‘remembering he doesn’t need to breathe’ issue. 

_ “Where are you?” _ he thinks, trying to keep his focus on his uninvited guests while furiously seeking out a bright ethereal light. 

He has barely thought the words when he smells ozone and a light flashes so brightly in front of him he sees everything as an after image. Aziraphale stands holding a blindingly flaming sword. Not THAT sword, no just one he picked up in Wessex when he’d been tramping around in armor. 

“Lucifer,” he says with nary a quiver in his voice. 

“Dantalion” he says nodding collegially one book lover to another. 

“I think you have the wrong spot.” he says holding the sword easily in his hand. “You see _ I  _ have the book and that means I’m  _ keeping _ the book.” 

Dantalion starts to stammer out his objections as Lucifer’s face slowly loses all it’s imaginary boredom and begins to redden. Aziraphale doesn’t move. Dantalion starts forward and suddenly has a neck full of sword point. 

“Don’t test me.” Aziraphale’s voice holds a coldness that Crowley rarely hears. 

“You cannot hope to best me Principality.” Lucifer’s voice is guttural with suppressed rage. 

“Oh? Try me.” the angel replies drily. 

Crowley has moved so he’s beside him and he brings up a column of hellfire in his palm. With a poise he does not feel he brandishes it towards Dantalion’s book and the demon shrinks back towards the wall. 

“We’re leaving. Do NOT follow. None of this will end well for you.” Aziraphale eyes the demons coolly and backs towards the open door. 

Crowley moves with him and in two steps they are back in his flat. He slams the door quickly and they can hear Lucifer raging as the door disappears. Crowley staggers towards the couch and tries to stop hyperventilating. Aziraphale flings the sword to the aether and lunges for Crowley. 

“Are you alright?” he’s patting over the demon's body with shaking hands, making sure he’s whole. 

“I’m fine angel, just fine.” he manages to catch a hand and Aziraphale stills. Settling next to him on the couch and leaning his head on Crowley’s shoulder. They both take a minute to breathe, slowly, in and out, until they are breathing together. 

Crowley turns and kisses the top of his angel’s head. “So,” he says slowly, “Tell me again about this book.”


End file.
